


Wind Chill

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers 2017 [3]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life, light slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 02:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: The boys hunker down in a safehouse on a winter evening.





	Wind Chill

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt 3 of Inktober for Writers: Warmth

Napoleon flinched as he heard the wind howling outside the safehouse; he chanced a look out the window and winced again as he saw the snow whipping up all around them. The snow was relentless, as was the wind.

“I’m feeling frozen just _looking_ at that,” he said, shuddering.

Illya rolled his eyes as they shared the blanket in front of the fireplace.

“I suppose it will be up to me to get more firewood?” the Russian intoned. “You won’t last five minutes out there.”

“Nah, we’ve got plenty,” Napoleon said. “And there’s plenty of provisions for you, too, so you won’t be going hungry.

Illya chuckled.

“And with you as an amateur chef, you even make these prepackaged rations taste good,” he added.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Napoleon said, kissing him; Illya gleefully kissed him back. “Well, if I have to be stuck here in a cabin in a blizzard in the middle of nowhere, I’m glad it’s with you.”

“ _Now_ who is trying to do the flattering?”

“Well, can you blame me for trying?” Napoleon asked.

He huddled closer to Illya.

“You know, the only thing missing right now is a nip of something,” he mused. “A bit of scotch or vodka…”

“Alcohol expands your blood vessels, which causes you to lose more body heat,” Illya said.

“…Well, aren’t you the anatomy expert?”

“…I _am_ the anatomy expert—I do the autopsies for U.N.C.L.E. in my spare time, remember?”

“…Smart-alec…”

Illya was about to come up with a witty reply, but he trailed off. His mind had drifted off to his childhood, in war-torn Kiev. The winters were harsher, colder, and Illya remembered trying to keep warm in abandoned buildings, weak, hungry, and living under constant fear. And there had been no he had trusted—no one to keep him company.

“Illya?”

Napoleon’s voice jolted him back to the present.

“Hey, I’m sorry about the smart-alec crack,” he said, seeing that something had upset Illya.

“ _Nyet_ , Napoleon; it wasn’t what you said. I was… reminded of winters long ago, during much more unpleasant times.”

“…Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Illya admitted. “I would much rather focus on the present, and what I have now.”

Napoleon wordlessly drew Illya into a tight embrace.

“Thank you, Napoleon,” Illya said. “I have a lot now, and I fully intend to cherish what I have.”

“You and me both, Tovarisch,” Napoleon said, tightening his embrace. “You and me both.”

They continued to sit together, and not even the subzero wind chills could reduce the warmth in their hearts.


End file.
